Capítulo 28: Harry in the Newspaper
Drenched by the scalding potion and subjected to Snape's venomous remarks, Neville continued trembling all the way to lunch.
"Don't let it get to you, mate," Ron said, attempting to console Neville. "No one can be good at everything, right?"
"You're right, Weasley," came Malfoy's sharp, mocking tone from the Slytherin table. "Perhaps this little lump should think more with his brain instead of his fat backside."
"Shut it, Malfoy," Ron snapped, pulling Neville along and away from the confrontation.
Before Malfoy could fire back, Slytherin Prefect Gemma Farley intervened. "Mr. Malfoy?" she called.
"Miss Farley," Malfoy responded, clearly aware of her authority.
"Close your mouth," Gemma ordered curtly.
She wasn't particularly concerned for Neville, but rather for Slytherin's house points, which she didn't want docked due to Malfoy's careless taunts. Under her warning, Malfoy fell silent but kept casting furtive glances at Ron and Neville's retreating backs.
That afternoon, Harry rounded up his dormmates and Hermione to visit Hagrid's hut. Seeing the group of young Gryffindors, Hagrid's face lit up with joy.
"Come in, come in," he said warmly. Noticing Neville trembling beside Fang, his massive boarhound, Hagrid quickly added, "Hold on, let me tie up Fang—he gets a bit too friendly."
Once the dog was secured, Hagrid ushered them inside. Harry had brought an assortment of Muggle snacks, including a few large bottles of soda.
"Ah, Coca-Cola," Hagrid exclaimed, holding up a massive 2.5-liter bottle as though it were a vial. "I'll admit, Muggles do get some things right."
After Harry introduced everyone—Ron, Seamus, Neville, and Hermione—Hagrid beamed at the familiar surname. "Another Weasley, eh? I know your brothers Fred and George. Can't tell them apart, mind, but I've spent a good part of my life chasing those two troublemakers out of the Forbidden Forest."
Hagrid then offered them a platter of what he proudly called "rock cakes." Their surfaces looked hard enough to withstand a hammer.
Harry eyed the "cakes" warily. Tentatively, he picked one up and tried breaking it in half. It didn't budge. Instead, he dunked it in water, planning to soften it before eating. The others stared at him in stunned silence.
Neville, meanwhile, was still struggling to take a bite of the one in his hands. Ignoring their expressions, Harry conjured a fork with his wand and began eating the softened cake.
To his surprise, the flavor was delightful—a strong, creamy sweetness akin to soufflé. "It's good!" he declared. "Sorry, Hagrid, my teeth have been bothering me lately, so I had to soak it first."
As they chatted, Hagrid began offering his thoughts on the professors. "Professor Sprout makes a fine cake, I tell ya. And McGonagall—strict, sure, but she's as kind as they come. Truth be told, all Hogwarts professors are good people."
Ron interjected immediately, "Except Snape."
"Absolutely," Neville chimed in, with Seamus nodding fervently.
"Now, now," Hagrid said, shaking his head. "You lot don't know him like I do. He's... well, he's..." Hagrid faltered, unable to find the right words.
"He's always picking on Harry!" Ron blurted. "You should see the way he looks at him, like he wants to eat him alive."
"No," Hermione countered thoughtfully. "It's more... complicated. I can't quite put my finger on it."
"It is complicated," Hagrid agreed cryptically, giving them a knowing smile.
"Why?" Harry pressed. "You've known my parents and been here forever. Snape must have known them too—were they friends?"
At Harry's words, Hagrid visibly froze, inhaling sharply. "Merlin's baggiest bloomers... What made yeh think that?"
"Am I wrong?" Harry asked, puzzled by Hagrid's reaction.
"Not wrong, exactly," Hagrid hedged. "Let's just say, your parents and Professor Snape have... quite the history."
"That explains a lot," Harry murmured, remembering Snape's earlier question.
"What do you mean?" Ron asked, perplexed. "How does that connect to the way he treats you? He's just out to get you, mate."
Harry recounted Snape's cryptic question about the Victorian language of flowers. His friends listened, expressions shifting between confusion and shock. Ron looked particularly gobsmacked. "But why not just say it outright?" Hermione mused. "It feels... like there's more to this."
"That's Snape for you," Hagrid said with a chuckle, deftly steering the conversation elsewhere. "By the way, Ron, how's your brother Charlie doing? I always liked that lad—he's got a real way with magical creatures."
Ron took the bait, launching into stories about Charlie's dragon-rearing adventures in Romania.
Meanwhile, Harry's attention was drawn to a newspaper on Hagrid's table. A section had been partially cut out but not completely removed. He noticed two articles: one about an attempted robbery at Gringotts, and another that caught his eye—a historical tidbit.
It was a "this day in history" piece commemorating the suppression of a goblin rebellion a century ago.
Hermione, too, noticed the paper and gasped. "Harry! Your name is in here!"
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